Miss Hermione Granger
by Ash-0g
Summary: She scrunches her nose but takes his hand anyway, following him into the blue box. "I'm not supposed to have tea with strangers." Hermione/10th/11th


**A/N: **For the _Harry Potter Crossover Boot Camp Challenge _on HPFC. Hermione/10/11 friendship (romance if you squint). Readers beware! My first real foray into the Who-universe and the longest thing I've written in nearly two years :S Enjoy!

_1/50 (I hope)._

**Prompt - Stuff Toy**

* * *

Miss Hermione Granger (as she wished to be known at the time) was all of six years old when she first met The Doctor. _Just _the Doctor, he assured her. There was no last or first name to know. Of course, being an inquisitive child, she found this most peculiar. She had met many doctors in her short lifetime; in fact both of her parents held that same title. But the man with the long coat and funny trainers didn't look very interested in teeth. Or any body parts really. Instead, he talked a lot about time with words she knew were not grammatically correct.

She decided to forgive his silliness. He was after all the only one who believed her. All the other grown-ups insisted that teddy bears do not talk and walk and hold sinister meetings by moonlight. She hadn't much liked Rupert Bear to begin with, a gift from a forgotten aunt. She liked him even less when she discovered that he was plotting global domination.

When it was all finished and the world was saved, he knelt down before her so that they were _almost_ the same height. Then he explained _everything _without stopping to take a gasp of oxygen. He used his usual big words, because he understood that she (_Hermione Granger_) was clever enough to know their meaning. And she was. And suddenly, a whole new fascination began with different kinds of stories.

_(Aliens.)_

"But will we have time? Mum and me have breakfast at eight, every morning!"

He raises an eyebrow in a memorable way that makes her promise to try and imitate later.

"I'll have you back for seven fifty-five. How's that sound?"

She scrunches her nose but takes his hand anyway, following him into the blue box. "I'm not supposed to have tea with strangers."

"Oh dear Miss Hermione, we've saved the world together! That only makes us friends!"

Tea with Mr Dahl is the loveliest thing she has ever done. He tells the most fantastic stories and even promises to think of her when he writes his next one.

She's back in bed before the clock hands reach eight, giggling.

* * *

The Doctor visits Hermione Granger many times. He brings her a birthday present for every year without fail. Sometimes he arrives much too early to deliver it, but gives it to her any way (he doesn't believe in waiting). Other times, he is very late. There's even one year that he skips entirely (by accident, he swears) but makes up for by bringing two things on her next birthday.

The gifts are really souvenirs, little items that represent a place he has been since the last time they met. Some he bartered for in one of those tacky and over-priced tourist shops, which seem to exist in every square inch of the galaxy. Others are more improvised, like the lump of moon rock he plucked from the surface for her eighth (the year she had been especially intrigued by the satellite). She loves them all, either way.

The collection has its own little place underneath her bed (away from prying eyes of course).

* * *

It's only once that he actually turns up on the exact date of her birthday (with two hours to spare).

"I don't like your new face." She tells him frankly. He sighs heavily and runs a hand through his hair which is far longer than necessary.

"Well I don't like the fact that you're growing up so quickly. We're even."

There's silence between them for a few minutes before he bursts out with a little more energy than she is used to.

"It's not really that bad, though, is it? Could've been a lot worse."

"It's weird."

"Oh? You should've seen some of my other faces, if you think so."

He nudges her shoulder with his, trying to elicit a laugh from her. When she continues to be quiet, he slings an arm around her shoulders before poking her nose.

"Hermione, what's wrong?"

She seems to take the question as an invitation to burst into tears.

"Nobody here likes me! I have no friends! It's not fair!"

The Doctor pats her back awkwardly, still unsure how to deal with a crying female. "Well, it _has_ only been three weeks."

* * *

The Doctor, time-traveller, alien extraordinaire, is disgusted by her use of a vehicle of time to _only_ attend more classes.

* * *

He makes no secret that he does not like the direction her life takes. He disapproves of any type of war, even if she is on the right side of it. She doesn't know that he is a hypocrite, that he has fought more battles than history even remembers. His life philosophy is _RUN_ and it is what he expects her to do. To run away and forget.

He offers to take her away to see the stars from the stars. They'll visit every place he has brought her a gift from, will watch the births and extinctions of all planets and life. She'll know people and things beyond her species. Most importantly of all, she will be safe. He'll bring her back then, like before, when it's all over, when both sides have destroyed themselves.

"Friends respect each other's choices."

"Even the stupid ones?"

* * *

She is more than surprised to see him. He stands in the middle of the Great Hall, hands nervously fiddling with that ridiculous bow tie. No one seems to notice him, the stranger, amidst the chaos and the crying. In her own little daze, she begins to make her way over to him. He spots her halfway through her journey and a weak smile forms on his face.

She stops mere inches before him. He shrugs, running that hand through his hair (a habit she hates)(and has missed).

"Friends respect each other's choices. I can't really afford to lose anymore." He simply says and tries not to fall over when she flings herself at him.

She's never seen him cry before.

* * *

Hermione Granger _loves _to travel the universe, but travelling through time is even better. She meets the people who only ever existed in her books, the unwavering friends and heroes of her childhood. There are stories that even the longest books don't tell and she loves to hear them.

The Doctor has a certain excitement that is always contagious and they spend most of their time together laughing at the marvels of the universe which is wide and welcoming. There's danger too. It seems to court him, wherever they go.

It doesn't bother her as much as it probably should have.

* * *

An envelope changes everything. Her name is scrawled across the front in an elegant script that she doesn't recognise. She thumbs the edges nervously, turning the parchment over and over in her hands.

"How could this have even got here?"

He waves his hands at her in some complicated gesture she has no hope of understanding. "You're the magical one. It's your area of expertise."

Patience is not really his virtue. Eventually he snatches the object from her hands and tears it open. She peers at his face, trying to judge the expression covering it.

"Well?"

"I always hated weddings. Such boring affairs. Don't go."

* * *

"I have _responsibilities_."

"So?"

"So I can't just abandon them, Doctor!"

"You've managed to well enough for the past year!"

"I can't spend my entire life running around the universe with you!"

* * *

"I lied. I actually love weddings. I'm a great dancer. You look nice, by the way. All that-OH MY SONIC IS THAT REAL GINGER?"

* * *

There are other meetings between Hermione Granger and The Doctor, but most seem insignificant compared to the earliest ones. There's knowing smiles shared over tea and Jammy Dodgers and laughter accompanies bad waltzes at the occasional party. Her husband and friends don't understand very much about the Doctor but to her children his mystery is mobile. He is their mother's oldest friend, perhaps even the first she ever had. He tells fantastic stories and from time to time, he brings them presents from far off worlds.

Hermione Granger meets the Doctor for the final time at the end. Ironically, she is running out of time and he has none to give. Like many of his former companions, she doesn't live to see her skin fully sag or to feel her bones ache. Her hair is only beginning to grow grey.

He holds her hand and she smiles. There are shouts in the distant.

She closes her eyes.


End file.
